


Time Lords Are Smooth

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, not much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1825879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten is distressed when Rose thinks Eleven is younger and prettier than he is. Not that Time Lords are insecure. Even half-human ones</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Lords Are Smooth

The first thing Rose saw was the TARDIS. Then she got a good look at the man leaning against it. She came to a sudden halt, emitting a soft “ _Whoa_ ” under her breath.

“Oomf,” said the Doctor, crashing into her. “Bit of warning would be nice. What is it?” He came up beside her, following her gaze. “Oh.”

“Is that…?”

“That’s me, yeah.”

“Oh,” said Rose, trying to ignore the way her heart started thumping a little faster. “You’ve regenerated.”

“Have I?” said the Doctor. “Ooh, look at that. I suppose so.”

“And you’re… that’s very…” Rose swallowed, gesturing at the new Doctor. “I mean… uh….”

The Doctor stopped eyeing his other self and now turned to stare at her, frowning in concern. “I’m what?”

Rose managed to drag her eyes away from the new Doctor to look back at him. “Young.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “Young?”

“And a bit… fit.” Rose said the last bit while coughing into her hand, hoping that maybe a loud gust of wind would muffle her words.

It didn’t.

“WHAT?!”

“Only a little!” said Rose, eyes drawn back to the new Doctor. She mimed a space between her thumb and forefinger. “Just an ish. Are you _sure_ you can’t regenerate?”

“Rose!”

“And look at all that hair,” she continued. “That’s really… whoa.”

“I have hair. Lots of it, in point of fact. Okay, maybe slightly less in recent years, but I can try growing it out again and… you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?” He paused and then said, “Rose, I’m having lunch with Jackie this Saturday. Willingly. I’ve even volunteered to pay.”

“That’s nice,” she said absently. “You’re _positive_ about the regenerating?”

“ _Rose_ ,” he said again, her name sounding like a piteous whine.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said. “You know how much I love you.”

But she couldn’t quite make herself quit staring.

“Oi!” said the Doctor, waving his hand in front of her face. “Remember how he’s an emotionally stunted wanker who left you on a beach without telling you he loves you? And just _look_ at him—showing up like he bloody owns the place. And those _shoes_ , Rose. Look at those shoes! Completely impractical. He’ll electrocute himself in no time with shoes like that and—Rose? Rose, where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go talk to him." The Doctor opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to protest. “Give us a minute? Please?”

The Doctor hesitated, but then stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. He nodded. Rose smiled at him, trying to silently assure him she wasn’t about to hop into this new Doctor’s TARDIS and leave him behind.

She took a deep breath and approached the new Doctor. He stared at her openly as she came towards him, leaning back against his TARDIS like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Suddenly nervous, Rose wiped her sweaty hands on her trousers and then cleared her throat, mustering up a smile when she reached him.

“Hi.”

“Rose,” he said quietly, pushing himself off the TARDIS. He gazed at her silently for a few seconds and then smiled. “How are you?”

His voice sounded different—softer and somehow more hesitant. She rubbed her arms and then looked past him, eyes flickering to the ship behind him. She felt a sharp rush of longing. It had been years since she’d travelled with him, and while her life was far from boring, she had never really stopped missing it.

“I’m good, yeah,” she said, focusing on him again. His smile widened, now looking like a smirk—a _familiar_ smirk—and he took a couple of steps towards her. Her heart began to thud and she hugged her arms to her chest. “What… what are you doing here?”

“Universe in peril,” said the new Doctor, still smirking. “Same old, really. Turns out, I could use a hand. My handy spare hand, in fact.”

“Don’t call him that,” Rose said, words out before she could stop them. She suddenly felt defensive and protective and she eyed this new Doctor with suspicion. “So that’s why you’re here, then. You need help saving the world.”

She felt silly. She didn’t know what it was about the Doctor that could make her feel nineteen again—young and desperate and not quite as in control of things as she’d like.

“I’m sure you’ve sensed it,” the Doctor said. “The walls between worlds—”

“Are breaking down, I know,” said Rose dully. “Seems to happen every few years, doesn’t it?”

His smile slipped. He held her eyes and her mouth went dry. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah?” she said, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Yes,” he said and there was something heavy in his eyes that she couldn’t read. “Rose, I…”

He trailed off, looking uncomfortable and hesitant. _Does it need saying?_ Rose thought with a pang.

Taking pity on him, she closed the distance between them and hugged him. His arms automatically wrapped around her waist. She breathed in deeply and he smelled differently than he should—like tea that had been sitting out on the counter too long. He was shorter than her Doctor and her cheek brushed hair that was too soft.

Slowly he released her, eyes warm as he gazed at her. She felt her stomach flutter, but there was something distant about his eyes. Like she was a fading image in his memory. An important one, but one he hadn’t thought about it in a long time.

It hurt her more than it probably should. He looked so young, but it could have been decades for him. Centuries, even. She was suddenly very conscious of every new wrinkle, every tiny blemish on her face. She’d aged so much since he’d last seen her.

One of her hands settled on his chest, fingers searching for the not-so-familiar thump of his two hearts. “Did it hurt?” she whispered.

“Pardon?”

“When you regenerated,” she said, “did it hurt?”

His hand settled over hers, thumb sweeping across her wrist in the same unconscious gesture as her Doctor. She shivered.

“No.”

She knew him well enough to know when he was lying, but he lied so well.

She licked her lips. “I’m glad.”

He stared at her, momentarily entranced, but then he gazed over her shoulder. “There’s a familiar face,” he said, nodding towards his other self. “Blimey, he looks worried.”

“Should he be?”

The Doctor glanced at her in surprise. “I don’t know. Should he?”

Rose didn’t hesitate. “No.”

His eyes travelled back to his other self. “Good. You’re happy. Both of you.”

Of _course_ they were happy, she thought with some exasperation. He’d known they would be when he’d left them both on that beach.

Still, it had never felt completely right. The anger now came in fits and bursts, but it still came.

“You didn’t say goodbye,” she whispered. “You just turned around and left. I never even got a choice.”

His eyes darkened and he released her hand. “Rose—”

“I know,” she said. “It’s who you are.” She wiped at her nose, suddenly chilled. “It would've been impossible, anyway. Choosing between you.”

“And now?”

“Now I’ve got a life here. With him.”

Something wistful flashed across his face, but he only said, “Rose Tyler, we’ve got the world to save.” He winked. “It could be dangerous.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He grinned and then turned around, giving the TARDIS doors a pat. “Come in when you’re ready.”

The door creaked open and then closed behind him. Rose sighed, some of her longing beginning to fade. She suddenly wished that it was an ordinary Friday evening—that she and the Doctor were just getting home from work, ready to open a bottle of wine and lounge around in front of the telly until bed.

She turned around, eyes seeking out her Doctor. She smiled when she saw him, relieved to find that he was still _him_ —that he would still smell and taste and touch her the same way.

She waved him over and realized that the new Doctor had been right. He _did_ look worried.

“End of the universe again,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. “He needs our help. Well, he needs your help. Two Doctors are better than one, I reckon.”

She stuck her lip out in a pout that he usually couldn’t resist, but he only looked tense and anxious. He glanced uncertainly at the TARDIS behind her. “I figured as much.”

“Doctor.” She placed her hand on his cheek and coaxed him into looking at her. “I’m really, really glad I have you.”

He still looked uncertain, so she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He reacted immediately, deepening the kiss and winding his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer. He kissed her desperately, leaving her breathless and dizzy.

Finally, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, warm breath puffing against her face. They stayed like that for a few moments and Rose ran her fingers through his hair.

“I like your hair better than his,” she whispered.

He gave a short bark of laughter and then released her. “Well,” he said, sounding upbeat, “he can’t be all that if he needs help saving the world.”

“That’s more like it,” Rose said. She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Coming?”

“Always,” said the Doctor, fingers slipping between hers.

Together, they opened the TARDIS doors.


End file.
